


The Real Heroes

by onascaleof1toepsilon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Daddy Issues, F/M, I have no idea where I'm going with this, M/M, Neville is the Herbology teacher, Slow Updates, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-05-04 05:34:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14586045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onascaleof1toepsilon/pseuds/onascaleof1toepsilon
Summary: Wylan never thought that the safe haven of Hogwarts wouldn't be as peaceful as he believed. Voldemort and the Death Eaters were gone, so why was trouble brewing? He finds out when a motley gang of misfits drags him into a secret battle going on behind the backs of teachers and students alike. With new friends- and enemies - Wylan's life is changed for good.





	1. A Letter Arrives

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not making any money off of characters, settings, or ideas belonging to J.K. Rowling and Leigh Bardugo.
> 
> This is my first fanfiction ever, and I hope you all like it. I will let you know that not all of the thing in this story will be canon. Please let me know if there are any mistakes, book-wise or grammar wise.
> 
> -Epsilon

  
Wylan stood at his music stand, flute to his mouth, eyes closed, playing with all of his heart. The music seemed to swell as if instead of only one mere flutist making his way through a particularly beautiful song, there were dozens of musicians weaving many different sounds together into a story without words. Wylan knew the song by heart. He often played it after his father gave him a 'talk'. Even while playing the melody, his cruel mind replayed his father's words over and over again.

_You are nothing. Useless. A waste of money, time and energy. You should be grateful that I pay for expensive tutors to try to hammer the concept of_ reading _into your head. Other people, less kind than me, would have thrown you out onto the street long ago. I have tried to help you for years, yet your simple brain just cannot handle it. Sometimes I wonder if this is all a well-concocted ruse created just to spite me._ _  
_

By then, his father had become worked up, his face turning red and baring his teeth like a wild dog. His hand rose and then struck Wylan across the face. It was not hard enough to leave a long-term mark, but Wylan could feel the dark warning lying beneath it. From then on, that unspoken thought that he knew his father had writhed and coiled around his mind like a snake, it's venom poisoning his mind with fear.

_Maybe I_ should _get rid of you._

Wylan opened his eyes, set down his flute, and then collapsed on his huge bed. He sunk down slightly in the huge mass of soft covers on the top. He felt tears welling up in his eyes as he thought over the issue of his father, but he fought them back down. He couldn't let that man hurt him so much.  
As he stared up at the ceiling, he heard a tapping sound coming from his window. He sat up and looked over at it, surprised to find a large barn owl outside of it, trying to get his attention. The owl was most likely delivering a letter, but for whom? Surely not for Wylan. No one ever sent him letters, so it must be for his father, and the owl was just confused.

He got up and opened the window, letting the barn owl fly inside with a letter clutched in its talons. It dropped the letter on his head before wheeling around and flying out of his room. Wylan picked the letter up off of the floor where it had fallen and looked at who it was addressed to. His eyes widened when he saw the words 'Wylan Van Eck' written on the envelope. They were some of the few words that he recognized, other than his father's name, after years of staring at them and trying to understand them.

He ripped open the envelope, the process messy without the help of a letter opener. After pulling out and unfolding the parchment, his eyes roved over the words printed in bright green ink on the thick paper. He knew that they were words-what else would be in a letter?-but to him they were just randomized lines and squiggles scratched onto the parchment.

Wylan began to pace. He wanted to know what was written in the letter, but he didn't want to risk running into his father if he ventured out of the room. His father would want to know why he was slinking around the house with a /letter/ of all things, and demand to read it, which Wylan did not want to happen. But his curiosity overpowered his fear, and he cautiously opened his door, glancing out into the hallway.

When he saw that it was clear, he walked out, taking extra care in front of his father's door, which was closed. He looked around anxiously, taking in all of the details around him; the unused rooms dripping with Jan Van Eck's wealth; the lavishness that didn't reflect the restraint and control he projected to his clients; the hardwood floors beneath his feet polished by the house's many servants; the walls painted a beautiful cream color.

Wylan opened a small door in a discrete nook and traversed the steep stairs leading down into the kitchen. The staircase was used only by the servants and on occasion, Wylan. The warmth that he felt in the busy room filled him with a happiness that was hard to find anywhere else in the house, even when he was playing his flute or drawing. In the kitchen, none of the servants cared that he couldn't read. They just wanted to get their jobs done and satisfy their master. Some of them were even nice enough to teach him to cook a few simple dishes.

One of these servants was Mary. She was the head of the kitchen and a master chef. She was also well known for her stern and unyielding attitude but had a soft spot for Wylan. He looked around and found her sipping a spoonful of soup and scolding the young servant who had cooked it for its subpar taste. He walked through the chaos of other cooks getting ready for dinner toward Mary and awkwardly waved at her. She shooed off the terrified chef with a final berating.

"What do you need, Wylan?" She asked.

"Well, I was wondering if you could, um, read this letter that I got?" He said, holding out the letter stumbling over words in his nervousness.

Mary raised her eyebrow slightly, she was the only other person besides his father and tutors that knew that he couldn't read, but still nodded and took the paper. "Dear Mr. Van Eck. We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find an enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl no later than July 31st. Yours Sincerely, Minerva McGonagall."

Both of them were silent after she had finished. It had been a possibility that Wylan would get into Hogwarts, however slim, but even if he could do magic, it would be extremely difficult for him to do any of the schoolwork or even learn spells. Wylan's father would also refuse to allow him to go to Hogwarts and disgrace him and the Van Eck name. Wylan didn't know what would be worse: being in his current situation, or being a Squib.

"I'll ask my father at dinner if I can go."

"You know that he'll say no, Wylan. He's the most stuck up and stubborn son of a gun I've ever met."

"I have to try. If he says no, then I'll just figure something out."

Mary nodded. "You're a good kid. A smart one too. You take after your father in that way at least. If you need help with anything, I'm here."

"Thanks."

With that last, forlorn word, Wylan turned around and retreated back up the stairs. He paced his room trying to work up the courage to ask his father to allow him to go to Hogwarts, his dream since he had learned about the school.

_I have to go to Hogwarts. I have to get away from my father, no matter what._  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be editing minor grammar mistakes as I continue to write the story. It won't be anything major- I'm just touching it up -but I wanted to let you all know.


	2. A Plan Is Made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I am not making any money off of characters, settings, or ideas belonging to J.K. Rowling and Leigh Bardugo.
> 
> I hope that you like this chapter! Let me know if I made any grammatical mistakes. Comments are appreciated!
> 
> -Epsilon

The tension in the air soured the delicious smells wafting up from various plates on the table. Wylan shifted slightly in his seat, glancing around at the guests that his father was entertaining for dinner tonight. It was a group of new, promising traders that his father was manipulating into a partnership with him.

Wylan's attention was brought into the conversation when he heard his father say, "If only Wylan was as interested in business as you all! All he wants to do is play the flute and mix dangerous chemicals." He ended the statement with a laugh and a cold glance that went unnoticed by the guests.

Wylan's face flamed cherry red as the visitors chuckled with his father and looked over at him quickly. But through the laughter and the small talk, the tension rose of them like a poisonous gas. They all knew Jan Van Eck's reputation for being vicious and devious when he had his eye's set on something, but they were too inexperienced to detect any underhanded tricks. Wylan also felt the tension coming from him. He was about to do something daring, that might make his father even angrier than he had been before. The dark monster lurking under Jan's skin couldn't be seen now, but Wylan knew that it was there and that what he was about to say might just bring it out.

Pushing away his fear, Wylan took a deep breath and then blurted, "I've been accepted into Hogwarts, father." Silence settled on the room after his words, similar to what had happened when Mary had read the letter aloud. Then his father exclaimed joyfully, "I knew that you would get in, Wylan! I'm so proud." The guests responded similarly, giving pats on the back and congratulations. They were obviously a bit puzzled that Wylan had shared this important knew with them, whom he knew almost nothing about, but they didn't voice their confusion.

Everything was going according to Wylan's plan, even though his father's visitors thought that he was slightly more awkward than he actually was. Now that the guests had heard the news, it would spread. Perhaps an offhand comment would reach the ears of some person who had a penchant for gossiping, or maybe it would make its way through the city by some other means. But it didn't matter how it traveled, only that it spread quickly. Luckily, people with high status frequently shared information that they had no business sharing. When the news of him being accepted to Hogwarts was on the lips of every important witch and wizard in the city, Jan Van Eck wouldn't be able to deny it without openly saying that his son was not competent enough to go to Hogwarts. Any excuse would only turn them against him and to tell the truth was not an option. It was a flawless plan.

So why was Wylan's stomach filled with nervous butterflies? It must have been nerves left over from working up the courage to interrupt his father's conversation.

Dinner after that focused on stories of Hogwarts, each guest sharing their experiences. But their tales were trumped by Jan Van Eck's, who told them that he was at the top of every class at school from the very beginning, and the pride of the Slytherin house. He had helped the fight against He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named. He had been appointed to a high position in the Ministry of Magic, Trade Organizer, in fact. He continued to list his accomplishments until the young businessmen were adequately cowed. When they finished dinner, they went into the parlor to drink liquor and talk about business. Wylan's father usually talked business when his guests' tounges were loosened by the alcohol, and this time was no different, despite Wylan's outburst.

Wylan retreated up into his room and waited for the visitors to leave and his father to call him down so they could talk. It took a long time, during which Wylan mostly paced up and down the length of his room, but eventually, a maid knocked on his door and told him that his father wanted to talk to him in the parlor. He slowly made his way down the stairs, this time the staircase that was seen by visitors.

It was a waterfall cascading down from the second floor, wide and flowing and carpeted in a beautiful shade of pale blue, like ice. Each time Wylan walked on the stairs he felt like he was violating something untouched and precious, and winced with each step. He reached the ground floor and warily entered the parlor, nerves sparking with apprehension. His father sat in a white velvet chair with a high back, the chair matching his imposing personality.

Jan Van Eck gestured to a matching chair facing his. "Sit." So Wylan sat. He felt like he was drowning in the cushions of the chair, and knew that he didn't look nearly as intimidating or strong as his father did.

His father folded his hands and leaned forward. "Why didn't you tell me that you were accepted to Hogwarts before you foolishly announced it to those men? Your intelligence is low, but I know that you are smarter than that. Did you have a plan, perhaps?"

Wylan's face was completely open, and his father could read his intent as easily as he could read words off of a page. Seeing that this statement was true, Wylan's father continued. "So you did. You are expecting those men to spread what you said to people who will want to see you at Hogwarts, correct? So I will have to send you there or risk your... condition being exposed?"

Again, Wylan didn't respond. He and his father were playing a risky game of chess, and Jan Van Eck was already two steps ahead, even if Wylan had believed that the roles were reversed.

His father chuckled, a low, dangerous sound. "Go back to your room. I don't want to see your face again today."

Wylan obeyed without question, walking as fast as he could without full-out sprinting up the stairs and to his room, where he quietly shut his door. He sunk down in front of it, putting his head in his hands. Thousands of voices screamed in his head, berating him for his mistakes and wailing in fear, drowning out all logical thought. He probably would have sat there all night if it wasn't for a soft knock on his door. Wylan froze, his mind irrationally leaping to his father. But the voice of someone familiar and comforting replaced the voice of his nightmares.

"Wylan? I hope you're okay, because I have tea, and I'm coming in," the voice announced. He barely had time to scramble away from the door before it opened and a familiar woman swept in, holding a gleaming silver tray holding two cups and teapot.

"Mary!" Wylan exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"Hello, Wylan. This was my first chance to get away from the kitchen, and I thought that I'd come to bring you tea. Tea makes everything better, so drink up," Mary said firmly.

Wylan obediently took one of the porcelain teacups from her hand and politely sipped the hot liquid as Mary made herself comfortable on his bed.

Once he finished the cup, Mary took it and asked, "What happened with your father? He said that you couldn't go, didn't he?"

Wylan sighed. "Not exactly. I told him about the letter at dinner today, with the guests. I thought that he wouldn't be able to deny what I said and that he would have to send me to Hogwarts. But... it didn't work out how I thought it would. I feel like he's planning something."

Mary shook her head. "I knew that something would go wrong. but we can't focus on the past anymore. When things go wrong, we must think of the future. So tell me, what are you going to do to fix this mistake?"

"I don't know-"

" _Think_ , Wylan. Your life may depend on this decision."

He paused and thought. He turned over all the options he could think of in his head, analyzing them, and discarding most. Only one stood out in his head.

"I should run away."

"I believe that's your only option," Mary agreed, her voice grave.

"When should I do it? How should I do it? Where do I go? How will I provide for myself?" Wylan fired off questions with vigor, his fear seeping into his voice.

"Stop. Calm down, and let me answer your questions. Drink some more tea while I talk," Mary ordered firmly.

He did what she told him to do, stopping his barrage of questions and pouring himself another cup of tea.

Mary thought for a second before she began to answer his inquiries. "You should do it as soon as possible. Who knows when Van Eck will make his move, whatever it is. You should sneak out at night, out the window. I'll get you a rope and distract the other servants if need be. You'll go to Diagon Alley. It's safe there, and you can get lodging at the Leaky Cauldron. When you're there, you'll go to Gringott's and make a withdrawal from your father's account. I'll swipe your father's key for you."

Wylan just sat there for a second, processing all of what the old cook had said. "You seem to have this all figured out, Mary."

"I do. Wylan, you're a smart kid, but you haven't yet learned how to stand up for yourself yet. You wouldn't have the guts to run away without someone helping you. So here I am, helping you."

Wylan's ears burned with shame. He knew that the comment was true, but it still hurt for someone to put what he feared into words.

Mary's eyes softened when she saw Wylan's expression, but she did not take back her statement. All she did was pick up the tray, take Wylan's now-empty cup, and exit the room. When she was gone, Wylan turned to his window and stared out into the night.

The sky was so much more than black, it was dark, obsidian velvet strewn with glimmering diamonds. It seemed both close enough to reach out and touch, but far away enough to be unreachable and unattainable.

Wylan fell asleep looking at the sky, once again with his back against the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I created the position of Trade Organizer for the purpose of the story, so I know that it is not a real position in the Ministry of Magic.


	3. A Still Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I am not making any money off of characters, settings, or ideas created by J.K. Rowling or Leigh Bardugo.
> 
> I hope you like the chapter! Let me know if there are any grammatical mistakes. Comments are appreciated. 
> 
> -Epsilon

Wylan opened his eyes slowly, wondering why his back felt like fire and his limbs were numb and tingling. He groaned and got up, stretching to bring some life back into his body.

"Why did I let myself fall asleep on the floor?" He groused. "Now I'll be sore all day."

He checked the wall clock for the time and sighed. It was only 7:36 a.m., and he knew that he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep with the state his body was in. He knew that today was going to be stressful, but also knew that he had to buck up and start preparing for his escape.

He walked around his room, cleaning up the mess that he had forgotten to straighten up yesterday, making his bed, putting away his flute and music sheets, and opening his window to let air in. Doing things like this was typically a servant's job, but Wylan preferred to save the poor people a bit of work.

Then he got out a messenger bag from his closet. He never used it and had been contemplating getting rid of it for a while now, but he was relieved now that he had not. After that, he began packing clothes and other basic necessities, along with a few galleons, sickles, and knuts. Of course, with his father's key to Gringotts, he would have a vast amount of wealth at his fingertips, but Wylan didn't like the idea of running away with only the clothes on his back and a piece of metal. 

He then ventured out into the hallway and into the kitchen. The familiar hustle and bustle of the servants and cooks didn't indicate anything was out of the ordinary until Wylan noticed that Mary was not anywhere in the room. He felt a twinge of unease at her absence. She was most likely stealing his father's key to Gringotts right now or smuggling a length of rope, risking both her job and reputation just because he couldn't help himself.

Ignoring the feeling, he asked one of the servants for enough food and water to last for a day or two, so he would at least be prepared. The young man looked at him with curiosity in his dark eyes but asked no questions. After all, that was not what he was being paid to do. Within a few short minutes, he was handed a bag full of food and water. Wylan thanked the servant quickly before heading back up the stairs.

He put the food in his bag and then realized that he had hours until night fell. So he snuck out of his room again and took a walk to take up time. It was good to get away from the house and clear his head, but when he got back up to his room, he was reminded of his escape by the package on his bed. It was a rope and a small key. On top was a note without any words, only a drawing of a heart.

Mary knew that she might not be able to say goodbye before he left, and had tried to convey that she cared for him with just a simple picture. Wylan felt touched and knew that he would never be able to repay her. He put the paper in his bag as a reminder that he had someone who loved him.

He looked at the clock. It read 1:23 p.m. Wylan hadn't eaten lunch, so he went back into the kitchen to get some food. Mary was there this time, but he couldn't talk with her about anything relating to him running away, or else one of the servants might get suspicious and speak with his father. All he could do was ask for a sandwich to bring up to his room and try to silently convey his thanks to the old cook before retreating back into his room.

After eating his lunch, Wylan felt antsy. He knew that his plan could go wrong in a thousand different ways, but he couldn't do anything about it now but pace around his room and wait. He collapsed on his bed, weary from worrying, and without even trying, slipped into peaceful darkness.

...

Wylan jolted awake. His clothes were wet with sweat and stuck to his body. He had been having a nightmare, but could only remember flashes of it. Being chased, his father, and deep, crimson-red fear.

Quickly getting up, he put on a fresh pair of clothes and then looked at his clock. It was 10:24 p.m. Wylan was surprised at having slept for so long but was glad for it. He didn't want to be muddled with sleep when he made his getaway. He checked his bag, making sure he had everything he needed in order to soothe some of his anxiety. As an afterthought, he placed his flute in the bag as well. 

He looked out of the window, into the night. The sky was dark and streetlamps caused dark shadows to dance wildly in the streets. The world was different at night. It seemed as if Wylan had been transported to a different dimension. One where alien creatures flitted through silky black curtains hung from the stars, where silence settled like a thick dust on every surface, and where there were no humans except Wylan, no one to observe his many faults and be disgusted. Here, in the dark and the quiet, he was safe.

Wylan had thought of this many times when he was unable to fall asleep and stared out of the window to clear his head. The thoughts gave him peace, even now.

But the peace was shattered by the sound of his door unlocking. It opened, smooth and quiet, yet the sound still made Wylan's heart hammer a frantic beat against his chest. 

Two large shadows stood in his doorway, each with the aura of an executioner at the chopping block. Wylan froze at their presence, helpless, even as the intruders moved closer. 

And closer.

And closer.


	4. A Successful Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I am not making any money off of characters, settings, or ideas belonging to J.K. Rowling and Leigh Bardugo.
> 
> Please let me know if there are any mistakes, book-wise or grammar wise.
> 
> -Epsilon

The intruders lumbered into his room, all muscle and no speed. One grabbed him, while the other took out a knife, sharp and gleaming in the outside light. It was this action that broke Wylan from his stupor. He quickly realized that these people must be sent by his father. The man wouldn't hesitate to stoop to murdering someone to get them out of his way, even that /someone/ was his own son. For what did he have to lose but a disgrace?

Wylan, however, had everything to lose. 

He did not want to die, not for a while yet. So he kicked and bit and fought with all of his limited strength and managed to break free of his attacker's grasp. Then he grabbed his bag, darted under the reach of the second assailant, and sprinted out of the room. He tore down the servants' stairs, through the empty kitchen, and out of one of the servants' doors.

Hopefully, it would be hard for them to pursue him. No one would think that the son of one of the wealthiest businessmen in England was familiar with the servants' pathways. Wylan ran onto the street and desperately stuck out his hand. 

Immediately, a purple triple-decker bus appeared violently out of thin air. Wylan had no time to be surprised and jumped inside as soon as the door opened, almost toppling a man in a purple suit. 

"Can you please drive?" He asked the man in the driver's seat hurriedly. The man must have noticed the urgency in his voice because he floored the gas. This sudden movement once again made the man in the purple suit stumble and the many four-poster beds pushed up against the wall slide back with grating shrieks. 

Once he regained his balance, he indignantly rattled off an obviously memorized speech. "Hello, and welcome to the Knight Bus. You stick out your wand and we'll take you anywhere you want. I'm the conductor of this beauty. The fare to ride on it is eleven sickles, or thirteen if you want hot chocolate. Where are you heading to?"

"The Leaky Cauldron," Wylan responded shakily.

Then the man held out a hand for the fare. Wylan rummaged quickly in his bag and retrieved eleven silver sickles, which he gave to the conductor. Then he sat down on one of the beds closest to the driver.

Before he could think to strike up a conversation, the man spoke. "I'm Stan Shunpike. The driver's name is Lester Smith. What's your name?"

"Name's David Williams," Wylan said, lying quickly and also trying to cover up the posh accent that he had acquired while being around his similarly elegant parents and tutors. 

"Nice to meet you, David. Why's someone as young as you out here all alone at this time of night?"

Again, Wylan had to think of a sound falsehood to tell the man. "I'm older than I look, and my parents don't care much if I wander around on my own."

"And why were you so eager to get on the bus? You almost pushed me right over," Stan said. He had an abundant store of questions, and Wylan was having a hard time thinking of lies that would fit. It wasn't that he thought that Stan would recognize him- most people only knew the name of Wylan Van Eck, not the face -but he didn't want to leave an obvious trail for his father if he came searching for him.

There was a pause, but Wylan covered it up by looking down as if abashed. "Well, I'm deathly afraid of dogs, and there was a right big one just running loose. Gave me a huge fright."

Stan laughed. "I understand, David. Some of those large ones are pretty terrifying."

Stan then began chattering about random topics, eager to have someone to talk to. Wylan nodded and shook his head at appropriate times, sometimes throwing in the occasional 'no', 'yes', or 'sure', just to keep the man happy. 

While the man talked nonstop, Wylan thought. The people that had been sent after him hadn't used wands or spells or anything magical at all. They must have been Muggles. There were many reasons why his father had hired Muggles; they were easier to get rid of and usually had little to no association with anyone in the wizarding world. Wylan shook off those thoughts quickly though. He did not want to ponder the advantages of his father sending a Muggle over a wizard or witch to murder him.

Even the idea of his father made him sick to the stomach, although that might just have been the violent movements of the Knight Bus. The other passengers seemed similarly affected. The driver and Stan paid no attention to the rough ride. They were clearly used to the way the bus maneuvered around Muggles and popped in and out of places to pick up and drop off passengers. 

Wylan was greatly relieved when the bus stopped. 

"Here's your stop, David. The Leaky Cauldron," said the conductor.

Wylan got out and said goodbye and thanks to Stan and the driver. The bus disappeared in the same way it had appeared: suddenly. No people were out on the street, but lights were on in the Leaky Cauldron, so Wylan walked in the door nervously. 

The few people who were having drinks at the tables glanced at him for a second but turned away just as quickly. The bartender called over to him. "What do you need, son?"

Wylan walked closer to him so he wouldn't have to shout his answer across the room. "I need to get into Diagon Alley but I don't have a wand. In fact, that's one of the reasons why I'm going there. Do you think you could let me in?"

"Shouldn't you have someone that you know that could help you with this sort of thing?"

Wylan shook his head. "No. My father's a Muggle and doesn't want me going to Hogwarts, but I knew that I needed to get my education. So here I am."

"We can go out right now," the bartender said, frowning, and starting toward the back of the building. They exited and came out to an alleyway ending with a brick wall. The man pulled his wand out of his back pocket and tapped one of the bricks in the wall. Once he had done this, the wall opened up, revealing a hidden street lined with stores.

"Hogwarts doesn't start for a few days. Do you have a place to stay?" The bartender asked, turning to Wylan.

"I was thinking that I could pay to stay here. You do have room and board, correct?" He confirmed.

"Yes, we do. I guess I'll be seeing you back here then."

Wylan nodded in goodbye and walked through the wall. It closed behind him, and he breathed a sigh of relief. His father's hired muscle couldn't get to him here in Diagon Alley, even at night. All of the shops were lit up and people meandered along the sidewalks.

Wylan fought the urge to sink to the ground in relief. He didn't want to attract unwanted attention, even if the mercenaries couldn't get to him here. So he began to wander around, trying to find Gringotts. Eventually, he came upon it.

The building was hard to miss, a beautiful structure made of blindingly white marble that towered over the other buildings and was inscribed with the words 'Gringotts Bank'. Two statues of goblins stood on either side of the doors. Everything about it radiated money, and not just because of the riches it held within.

Wylan walked through ornate doors and into a small room. On the other side were a pair of silver doors with an ominous warning carved into them.

Enter, stranger, but take heed  
Of what awaits the sin of greed  
For those who take, but do not earn  
Must pay most dearly in their turn  
So if you seek beneath our floors  
A treasure that was never yours  
Thief, you have been warned, beware  
Of finding more than treasure there

Wylan shuddered slightly. He wasn't planning on stealing anything from Gringotts, but the words still struck fear into anyone passing through the door. 

He entered a room that had a high ceiling hung with delicate crystal chandeliers. The floor was mostly made of the same marble as the outside but was inlaid with a swirling design of darker stone. There were counters on each side of the room with goblins behind them. 

Some of the goblins were weighing precious stones or taking polished galleons, sickles, and knuts, for customers. Others were escorting patrons to and from their stores of wealth. Wylan worked up his courage and walked up to one of the goblins who weren't busy.

The goblin had a long, hooked nose, pale skin, large, droopy ears, and a shock of white hair atop his head. His head was huge in comparison to his body, which was clothed with a smart looking suit. He was also extremely short, needing a high stool to look over the countertop. Wylan had never seen a goblin before, but its appearance wasn't shocking. He knew that most magical creatures seemed weird to humans, and assumed that the feeling was mutual.

"I'm looking to withdraw some money from my father's account. Could you do that for me, sir?" Wylan asked the goblin, whose nametag read Ritheid.

Ritheid looked up at him with a disinterested look on his face. "Do you have the key?"

"I do," Wylan answered, rummaging through his bag until he found the silver key and holding it up for the goblin to see.

Ritheid made a motion for him to hand it over, so Wylan placed it into his hand. "And who is your father?" He asked.

Wylan hesitated a bit before saying, "Jan Van Eck." He knew that he had to tell Ritheid the truth or else go without any money, but it was hard to escape the cocoon of lies that he had created for himself.

The goblin nodded, either not noticing or not caring about Wylan's pause. "Follow me, if you will," he said.

Then he hopped off his stool and led Wylan to a large door in the back of the room. They walked through it together, and into an area less overwhelming than the one outside. It was a long, stone passageway dimly lit with flickering torches that led downward. The pair then reached a set of tracks with a cart on them. The whole setup reminded Wylan of a rollercoaster, with the track, the rickety carts, and odd, scary surroundings.

"Get on," Ritheid said, gesturing to the cart.

Wylan obeyed with some reluctance; the cart didn't look very safe. As soon as the two of them got on the cart, it shot off with all the force and speed of a bullet. He held onto the edge of the cart in an attempt to secure himself if the cart careened off of the tracks, something that, at the moment, seemed very likely to occur.

The goblin wasn't the slightest bit ruffled, even when the cart rocketed over a giant pit on a rickety track. He only looked amused at Wylan's (justified) fear. After a minute or two of Wylan squeezing his eyes tightly shut and praying frantically to gods he didn't believe in, the wild ride stopped. 

They were in front of a giant door. It was made of silver metal, glimmering and extravagant. Of course, Jan Van Eck always had to advertise his money, even to the goblins, who had probably seen more wealth than a man could ever dream of. 

The goblin stepped toward the door, key in hand. He inserted the small piece of metal into a keyhole in the door that Wylan had not noticed before. It turned with a loud click.

Wylan stepped forward, expecting the goblin to open the door, but instead, he hissed, "Stay back unless you want to be trapped in there for years!"

Surprised and scared, he did as the goblin said and waited as he stroked the door with one finger. Then, the door disappeared, as if it had never been there in the first place. Wylan could see piles of coins and various magical and non-magical artifacts. There were probably a few forbidden items in there too. For all of Wylan's hate of his father, he had to admit that the spread was impressive. It would be intimidating as well if he hadn't already known that the owner was much scarier than his mountain of gold.

"Step inside," Ritheid prompted. "Take as much gold as you need. It is yours, after all."

Wylan nodded and walked into the room. He began shoveling as many coins as he could fit into his bag. Although it was all his by blood, it still felt as if he was stealing. He could feel his father's angry gaze burning into the back of his head, but when he looked back, there was only Ritheid. 

"Is something wrong?" The goblin asked.

"No, no. It's just..." Wylan struggled to think of a suitable lie. "...I thought I heard something."

"Really? I didn't."

He internally cursed himself. Goblins had much better hearing than humans, an obvious fact due to their overlarge ears. Ritheid's eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he didn't say anything. Wylan couldn't imagine why he didn't, considering the fact that Gringotts was extremely cautious with those who withdrew money, but he wouldn't complain. After he was done shoving as many coins as he could into his strained messenger bag, he got up and turned to Ritheid. 

"I'm finished," he announced awkwardly and held out the bag as if he needed proof of it.

The goblin nodded, and the two of them returned to the cart. The ride back was uneventful, or as uneventful as a terrifying rollercoaster could get.

Wylan walked out onto the street and tried to ignore the thump of his coin-filled bag against his leg. It was uncomfortable and drew a few stares from curious passerby. Then he pulled out his Hogwarts letter. It was of no practical use to him, considering that he had memorized the supplies that he would need for school, but it was comforting to hold the thick parchment in his hands all the same.

He walked with a purpose to the shops in Diagon Alley, back straight, and courage flickering like a flame. He just hoped that it wouldn't burn out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a lot of things here that probably aren't exactly the same as in the books, and some things that I just made up. I have no idea if goblins have good hearing. I just made it up for the purpose of the story. I'm sure a lot of you don't notice or care, but I just wanted to mention it. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Also, wow, that was a long chapter. And a long time since I last updated. Sorry about that!


	5. An Encounter

Wylan wandered around Diagon Alley and entered the stores that he needed to shop at as he found them. All of their employees were kind and noticed his lack of a guardian right away. Because of this, they went out of their way to be particularly helpful to him. With their pleasantness and Wylan's supply of gold, they got along just fine.

Soon enough, his arms were laden with many bags under immense strain that he had somehow managed to arrange in such a way as to allow him to hold his wand up in front of his face. It was nine inches long, made of willow with a dragon heartstring core, and it provided him with endless pride and fascination.

It was hard to believe that this glorified stick would harness his magic, but harness his magic it did. Of course, the shower of sparks that the wand had produced in the shop could hardly be called magic, but Wylan knew that it was a step toward full mastery of the practice.

He wondered what wondrous things his wand would help him do on his walk back to the Leaky Cauldron. So absorbed was he in his wand that he bumped into a man while walking through the door of the bar. He stumbled in surprise, but the man was able to steady him with a hand on the shoulder.

Wylan looked up at the man. "I'm so sorry, sir! That was my bad and-"

"It's fine," the man said, interrupting his apology. Then he looked down at Wylan's hand, which clutched his wand. "I understand, getting your wand can be very exciting! Just don't forget to pay attention to the world around you."  
  
Wylan nodded, "Of course, sir, thank you."  
  
"No problem. I look forward to seeing you at Hogwarts!" Said the man, who began to walk away.  
  
"Wait, what?" He asked, confused, and turned around. The man was nowhere to be seen.  
  
After a minute of staring out after the stranger, Wylan stopped lurking in the doorway and walked inside of the bar. The bartender looked up at him and smiled.  
  
"Hey, kid! Do you need a room?" He asked.  
  
Wylan smiled back. "Yes."  
  
"Good, because I already have one ready for you! How long will you need it for?"  
  
"Until Hogwarts starts. I'll need a place to camp while I wait."  
  
"Sure. You can pay me when your time's up. I'll take you up now."  
  
"Thanks, that sounds great."  
  
They walked to his room in silence. Wylan felt all of the events of the day weighing on him, and all he wanted to do was fall onto a bed and sleep for a week. They stopped in front of a door with a gold number ten nailed to the front. Wylan was handed a key with the corresponding number.  
  
"I realize that I never got your name," the bartender said.  
  
"It's David," Wylan responded, sticking with the story he told Stan.  
  
"Nice to meet you, David. My name is Joshua. Well, I'll let you go. You seem pretty tired. "  
  
"Thanks, Joshua."  
  
Joshua nodded and left. Wylan fumbled with the key and eventually managed to unlock the door and shuffle into his room. It was appalling compared to the grandeur that he was used to. The wallpaper was faded, but the pattern was still garish enough to burn his eyes, and the comforter and pillows were in matching shades of barf-green. The hardwood floors needed polishing and were stained in colors Wylan didn't even want to think about.  
  
It was a bit refreshing, though. The beauty of his father's house was deceiving. At least this place showed its true colors. Wylan set down his heavy bag and lay on the bed, ignoring the musty smell and immediately sinking into a comfortable sleep.

* * *

Wylan opened his eyes, already brimming with excitement despite the early hour. After a few days of hanging around in Diagon Alley, the time to go to Hogwarts had finally come. He got out of bed and packed all of his belongings into his trunk.

  
Once his task was completed, he went down to the main part of the Leaky Cauldron for breakfast. Joshua stood behind the bar counter pouring some frothy butterbeer into a glass. Wylan hopped up onto one of the barstools.  
  
"Hello, Joshua! How are you?"  
  
Joshua turned around with the glass in his hand. "Ah, hello David. Let me go give this to Ms. Jemminick and then I'll get your breakfast. Same as always, right?"  
  
"Of course," Wylan said.  
Joshua dropped off the glass and then came back with a plate loaded with delicious food. Waffles with copious amounts of whipped cream and syrup, freshly cut strawberries, and scrambled eggs, along with a glass of orange juice.  
  
Wylan quickly thanked Joshua and dug into his breakfast with vigor. He stopped for a second and sighed with pure bliss. Even after a few days of eating the same thing, the food never got old.  
  
Joshua leaned against the counter, as he always did when Wylan came to eat. “So David, today’s the big day. Are you excited?”  
  
Wylan nodded. “Haven’t you noticed me shaking? I can barely contain myself!”  
  
“I felt the same way when I was your age. For good reason too! Hogwarts was an amazing experience. I know you’ll have a great time,” Joshua said.  
  
Wylan couldn’t respond. Just talking about Hogwarts made excitement rise up in his throat and a huge smile stretch across his face.  
  
Joshua just laughed, knowing the reason for the lack of response.  
  
"Well, I have something for you that might make you even happier. Just give me a second to get it, okay?" Joshua said.  
  
He left to go to the kitchen and returned with a cardboard box in his hands. He set it in front of Wylan, pushing his finished breakfast plate aside.  
  
"Open it!" He urged.  
  
Wylan opened the flaps of the box with trembling hands. He peered inside and found a pair of blue eyes peering up at him.  
  
"I-it's a cat," Wylan stammered out.  
  
"Yeah," said Joshua. "Are you allergic to cats?"  
  
"No!" Wylan exclaimed.  
  
He carefully lifted the cat out of the box. It meowed softly at him but didn't struggle in his hands. It was a brown tabby with fluffy white clouds drifting across its fur.  
  
Wylan felt his eyes begin to tear up. "You didn't have to, Joshua. This is too much."  
  
"I wanted to. But the cat needs a name. What do you want to call her?" Joshua responded slightly sheepishly.  
  
Wylan quickly wiped away his tears and cradled the cat in his arms, not knowing any other way to hold her. "I think I'll name her... Quinn."  
  
"I like it. I thought I would get you something to help you remember me, and I noticed you hadn't gotten a pet for yourself, and then I found Quinn."  
  
"I would never forget all of the kindness you've shown me. Don't worry. I'll visit you next year."  
  
"That would be wonderful, David."  
  
Wylan winced slightly. He wished that he could have told Joshua his real name. For all of his generosity, he at least deserved a little honesty.  
  
"It's no problem."

* * *

Wylan stood between platforms 9 and 10, his trunk in his hand and Quinn draped languidly around his shoulders. There was no Platform 9 ¾ in sight. He had heard the stories that said you were supposed to run in the space between the two platforms, but Wylan was still skeptical. 

  
He surreptitiously looked around and managed to catch sight of two kids doing just that. Instead of cracking their skulls open on the brick wall, they slid through with ease.  
  
Bracing himself for the possibility of a dramatic crash, Wylan ran into the wall and... emerged on the other side, perfectly fine. There was a train spitting steam out of its smokestack and students with their families milling around. Some of the people wore traditional black cloaks and hats while others dressed in Muggle clothing.  
  
Among all of the children saying goodbyes to their families, Wylan was alone. It stung, but he pushed the feeling down and got on the train. It was lined with compartments, some with children inside, others without. He walked down the aisle of the train, peering into windows in an attempt to find an empty compartment.  
  
He looked into one that was almost full and was about to move on when he saw a girl in the compartment motion him inside. Wylan hesitated but cautiously opened the door and stepped in.  
  
The room held an interesting group. Two boys each sat in their own separate corners, both with wary eyes that shouldn't belong to children of eleven. The girl that had invited him in and the boy sitting next to her were the complete opposite. The girl had wavy brown hair and the boy was thin and tall with dark features. Both had eyes sparkling with energy and laughter. The one remaining girl stood in a group of her own. She had long, black hair in a loose braid and radiated calm.  
  
After he took in his surroundings, Wylan was pounced on by the brown-haired girl.  
  
"Hi! My name's Nina. You looked really lonely outside the door so I thought I'd invite you in. I like your cat."  
  
"O-oh, thank you. My name is Wylan, nice to meet you," he murmured. He had decided that it was pointless to lie about his name now; they would all find out his real name within a few hours at the Sorting Ceremony.  
  
Nina then introduced him to all of the other kids. The two sullen boys were Kaz and Matthias, Nina's energetic counterpart was Jesper, and the calm girl was Inej. Kaz threw him a glance that seemed to dissect him in an instant, and Wylan felt goosebumps travel up his arms. Matthias had no reaction, while Inej and Jesper waved at him.  
  
Jesper and Nina peppered him with questions after the introductions, with the others breaking in occasionally with their own questions and comments. Wylan was a bit overwhelmed at all the attention, but he found himself easing effortlessly into the atmosphere of the group and smiling and laughing along with them.  
  
This year might be even more exciting than he had imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wylan finally meets the rest of the group!
> 
> Anyway, for the people that actually care about this story, even a little bit, thank you. I'm sorry that I haven't updated in an extremely long time. I'm not well known for finishing things I've started, although I want to, and this story is no exception. I never really had any plans for this story. I just jumped into it without thinking. I'll try to update as much as I can, but this is certainly not at the top of my priority list. Again, I want to apologize to and thank all of the people who have read this story.
> 
> -Epsilon


End file.
